


Call My Name

by Huggle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Family, Angel Siblings, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdown, Mind Control, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Gabriel, Protective Sam Winchester, attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:18:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4953085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggle/pseuds/Huggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam are attacked by witches who try to force them to kill themselves. Castiel is their only hope but even if he manages to save them, who will save him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call My Name

**Author's Note:**

> I think I covered everything in the tags, but before anyone reads any further there is a lot of emotional and mental tampering in this story and it does not help our already vulnerable boys at all.

“Don’t listen to them, Sammy,” Dean said. He groaned as the chanting burned at him, feeling like something red hot and viscous was pouring in through his ears. “Just drown them out.” He started singing, more like screaming the lyrics to something – he couldn’t even remember what, and that was definitely not a good sign.

It also wasn’t helping at all.

Sam had the book in his hands, and he was struggling. He raised his voice, almost yelling, as he read the counter curse. But he kept shaking his head like he couldn’t focus. He staggered back, nearly dropping the book.

Dean took a shot at the two women, but the bullet didn’t seem to go far. It flattened itself completely about four feet away from them, as though it had hit an invisible wall.

One of the women laughed, high pitched, hysterical. “I’m going to enjoy this,” she promised. “I’m going to watch while you do it, and it’s going to be the best feeling ever.”

Dean unsheathed his knife and started toward them. Every step felt like he was fighting quicksand. The closer he got, the harder it became. He swung his knife hopelessly, too far away, but still managed to make one of them flinch.

“I’m going to feel like that when I kill you,” he snarled.

“Oh, sweetie,” the other woman said. They had given up on the chanting. The damage was done, Dean guessed. “I’m afraid the only person you’re going to kill today...is you.”

::::

Castiel knelt in front of the altar, staring up at the stained glass windows. The church was empty at this hour, locked up and in darkness. He rested in the silence, recovering his strength, and praying desperately.

So far, he’d received no response, but someone had saved him from his confrontation with Raphael and the others. Someone had brought him back. He wanted to believe it was God, held to that, but many of the archangels were powerful enough to restore him.

Gabriel would have been powerful enough. But then his brother’s reaction upon seeing him in that constructed reality proved Gabriel had not expected him to be there. Had probably never thought of him in all the time he had been missing, therefore had no reason to be aware of Castiel being scourged from existence in the house of a prophet, let alone take steps to bring him back.

At this moment, and in all the moments to come, Castiel knew he could use his brother’s help, his strength, he just didn’t believe he could count on it, or even on his interest.

He could also sorely use Gabriel’s protection for the Winchesters, since he didn’t know how much longer he would be able to provide that protection himself.

“Where are you,” he whispered, unwilling to disturb the silence and unsure if he was speaking to his Father, or his brother.

When he heard the voice calling his name, he stood and turned. 

_Cas? Cas! Castiel!_

It sounded like Sam, and the tone troubled him.

He sounded desperate and afraid.

Castiel reached out, checking for any sign that his brothers and sisters were near, and found nothing. He spread his wings, and set off in search of his charges, following Sam’s call.

:::

He found Sam standing on the jetty of a lake. He was staring not out over the water, but down into it even though the water was too dark for him to see anything but his own rippling reflection.

“Sam? Are you alright?”

Sam didn’t answer. He shook his head, and Castiel saw that he was trembling. He could feel it more strongly now, that something was very wrong.

“Sam, what happened? Where is Dean?”

He’d barely finished speaking, when Sam jerked his arm back sharply – pointing at something behind Castiel. The angel turned, saw an old house high on the hill overlooking the lake, and felt that same sense of wrongness. Clearly, Sam was trying to tell him Dean was in there. But why was he up there, when Sam was down here?

Castiel spun around when he heard the splash. Sam was no longer standing on the jetty, and the water was churning and frothy.

“No,” he said, stunned, and stepped off the jetty into the water. 

Sam wasn’t even trying to swim. He was sinking fast, just staring up at Castiel as if curious to see what he would do next.

Castiel reached out a hand, and focused on pulling Sam towards him. When he had a hold of him, he returned them to the jetty. Sam collapsed in his arms, and Castiel was soon all that stood between the younger brother and a rough tumble to his knees.

“Dean,” Sam gasped. He was shaking, struggling to breathe. “You have to get him. Cas, hurry!”

Castiel lowered Sam to the jetty, and thought a silent command to him. Stay. He could feel it warring with, but superseding, whatever power had compelled Sam to try and kill himself. Sam would be safe enough while he went after Dean.

:::

Castiel set down in the hall of the house. It was a wide lobby with a staircase leading up to the second floor. The dust and cobwebs suggested it had been abandoned a long time ago – but clearly it wasn’t any more.

He heard movement from upstairs and looked up to find Dean standing there, his angel blade in one hand and his gun in the other.

“Dean,” Castiel said. He reached out to his charge and felt something within fighting for control.

_Cas, go, get out, please, they’re making me-_

Before Cas could react, Dean raised the gun and fired.

The bullet found its mark, tearing into Castiel’s side. It hurt, briefly, another sign he was weaker than before, but he ignored it as he started up the steps.

“It’s alright, Dean,” he said, as soothingly as he could manage. “Just put down the weapons.” If something was controlling Dean, he didn’t want to help them realise that of the two weapons Dean carried, the blade was the one he had to worry about.

But perhaps they had been reading Dean’s thoughts, because he raised the knife, and leapt from the top step with a horrified shout.

Castiel took the impact as Dean crashed into him but trying to prevent him from tumbling down the steps or over the side of the staircase gave Dean an opening. 

The blade snagged through Castiel’s clothing and he felt the tip tear across his shoulder.

Too close. He grabbed Dean by the wrists and squeezed enough to force him to drop both gun and knife.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

Dean did, and the pain in his eyes and on his face found an answering fury within the angel.

“Stop,” Castiel said, and Dean slumped against him with a harsh gasp. Castiel supported him while Dean shook and tried to pull himself together. He took a breath and managed a step back, although it was an unsteady one.

“Sam,” he started, but Cas nodded.

“He’s safe. Who did this?” 

Dean bent to recover his gun, and the blade, and started when he saw the blood on its edge. “Cas!”

“I’m fine. Who?”

Dean started upstairs, but Castiel took the steps faster and reached the landing ahead of him. “In there?”

Two large doors lay at the end of the hallway. They were closed, but even from here Castiel could feel a presence there. Possibly two people but the weight of a dark magic hung heavily around them.

“Not for long,” Dean said. He holstered the angel blade and reloaded his gun.

“Go to Sam,” Castiel told him. He doubted the people responsible for this could affect Dean again in his presence, but he preferred not to risk it.

He’d hoped Dean would forget his assault of moments before, but he should have known better.

“What about you? Fuck, Cas, I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine,” he lied. “Go to Sam.”

He started towards the doors, until Dean’s hand closed over his wrist. 

“Dean,” he warned.

“Don’t even try.” Dean glared at him – he was pale, but determined. “You think I’m letting you go in there on your own? When you’re hurt?”

Castiel hesitated. He could take Dean to Sam and then return, but Dean’s attack had injured him. He didn’t know exactly what lay in wait beyond those doors, but the longer they stood here deliberating the better prepared their foes would be.

“Keep behind me,” he commanded, and advanced on the doors. He thrust them open, and almost instantly felt a heaviness descend upon him.

_They’ll kill you, tear you apart again._

_You can’t take that pain._

_If they don’t kill you, they’ll hold you down like they did before – turn you inside out and hurt you hurt you hurt you until you tell them you see things their way just to make it stop._

_Those two hate you. You’re a tool to them, that’s all, and as soon as you’re of no further use they’ll leave you alone and helpless and probably bleeding out somewhere. Or struggling to survive in a world where you don’t belong._

_Better to end it now._

Castiel rocked back, unsteady, as if he had been struck a powerful blow. The women were whispering under their breath, but he could hear what they said. And yet it was in his voice, not theirs.

“Be quiet,” he commanded.

“Don’t listen to them, Cas,” Dean urged. “As soon as you give ground they’ve got you.”

Castiel stretched out his arm, blocking Dean when he tried to go around him. “They don’t have me.” 

He focused his energy, his intent on them. They stopped whispering, each at the same time grabbing at their throats. Their expressions were horrified. 

One of them ran at him, hands raised, fingers clawed. She was screaming, silently.

Dean got around him this time, and punched her in the face before she could get near.

Castiel grabbed his arm before he could advance on the other woman. “They’re no longer a threat. Come on.”

He reached out to touch Dean’s shoulder, but the hunter stepped back. “Nope. This time, we walk.”

He led Castiel to the stairs.

:::

Dean insisted they all drive back to Bobby’s. Castiel sat up in the back of the Impala, quiet, focused on the damage he’d suffered and keeping an eye on the Winchesters.

They were quiet, but other than that seemed to be fine.

He could see the tiny glances Dean kept giving him through the rear view mirror. It wasn’t hard to tell that Dean felt guilty, and he knew from experience that no matter what he said it would be impossible to convince Dean that this was not his fault.

“Is it bad?” Dean asked, eventually, when watching him clearly wasn’t enough for reassurance. “And don’t try to bullshit me. No ‘I’m fine’.”

Castiel grimaced. “I’m injured. I’ll recover. I’ve certainly suffered worse.”

“Oh, that’s okay then. As soon as we get home, I’m checking you over.”

Castiel turned to stare at Dean, ignoring the flaring pain caused by the movement. “There won’t be much you can do.”

“Humour me. No flying off until I know you’re okay.”

“The longer I spend around you, the greater the risk I’ll be tracked down while I’m with you. I didn’t mark you with the sigils to let my trail lead my brothers right to you.”

“Cas,” Sam said, quietly. “You came for us. Let us look after you, ok? We’re in this together.”

“I told you both – I’ll be alright.”

Dean’s anger translated into a sudden burst of speed from the car. His jaw was set, his fingers clenched tight around the steering wheel.

“Bobby’s house is covered with angel proof sigils. You helped us put them on. Don’t tell me you won’t be as safe there as we are. And stop telling us you’re alright!”

Castiel lapsed into silence. Sometimes it was easier to go along with Dean than waste time trying to get him to change his mind. 

::::

Bobby set a beer down in front of Sam and took a deep swig of his own.

“Where’s your brother and feathers?”

Sam tapped his foot on the floor. “Dean’s calming his panic. Cas is humouring him. I guess.” He hoped so, at least, but he hadn’t missed Castiel’s grimace of pain when he climbed out of the car. Still, even if Cas was hurt, Sam knew the angel should be able to shake it off reasonably quickly. Not as fast as before, when he was still part of the Host, but even now Castiel was still formidable.

He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if Cas hadn’t heard him call. If Cas hadn’t answered.

Bobby nudged his arm. “Don’t. This is like any other hunt. You deal with it, you move on.”

Sam didn’t feel up to calling bullshit - did any of them really ever deal with anything or just bury it -but Bobby was kind of right; he should at least try to forget it. But he couldn’t shake the horror at not being able to control himself. Even without the whole throwing himself into the water, it was like a taste of things to come if Lucifer ever got his way. 

Lucifer.

He wondered how Dean was coping with it, or if he was even trying or had already got to the burying stage himself.

*-*

The wound was mostly already healed, though one stubborn edge continued to bleed sluggishly.

Dean cleaned it as best he could, then taped a dressing over it. He picked up Castiel’s shirt. Like his suit jacket, and the tan trench coat, there was a long slice over where he’d slashed at Cas. Blood tinged the edges. At least the bullet wound had taken care of itself, after Castiel had simply popped the round out in the car.

“You up to a change in wardrobe, yet?”

Castiel turned to face him. Dean thought he looked paler than usual, but maybe he was just feeling guilty.

“I don’t think it matters how I’m dressed.”

Dean shrugged, putting off the shopping trip to Wal-Mart. “Well, these are gonna need fixed. Can you?”

Cas hesitated, and Dean knew he was trying to conserve his power, but he guessed it was easier to repair a few pieces of clothing than a wound made with an angel blade. A moment later Castiel’s clothing was back to normal, and Dean handed over the angel’s shirt.

He watched Castiel put it on, flinching as it stretched the wound in his shoulder.

“You could stay until you’re better.”

“I’m better now.”

“Cas,” he said, frustrated. He picked up the jacket, coat and tie, let them hang over his arm as Cas fastened the shirt buttons. “Better as in not bleeding. Even you should rest when you get hurt.”

He didn’t want to say that before too long Cas would have to rest whether he was hurt or not. Like every human being did.

Cas turned to face him. “There isn’t time to rest. They aren’t going to call this off, Dean. There’ll be no change of heart. The only chance any of us have is if I can find my Father and bring Him home. He’s the only one who can stop this.”

Dean grabbed Cas by the shoulders, remembering in time to avoid where he was hurt. “We’re doing ok so far. As long as nobody says yes to anything, we can stall this thing indefinitely.”

Cas dropped his chin to his chest, his eyes downcast. “You don’t know them. They’ll always think of something. They’ll wear you down, or find something to hold over you.”

“Dammit, Cas, you really don’t have much faith in us, do you?” Dean stepped back, let Cas out of his grip. He hated the feeling of having to prove himself to anybody, and that was how this was starting to go. 

“They have forever,” Castiel said, and he never once raised his head.

“Fine. Go back to your God hunt. Text me if you _happen_ to turn up anything.”

He winced at the sound of his voice – so dismissive, so obvious he thought Cas wasting his time.

Cas didn’t miss it. “I’m going to find Him, Dean.”

“Sure. Except maybe he doesn’t want to be found. And they might have forever but you don’t. You’re getting weaker by the day. What do you think is going to happen to you once you’re human, huh? The first time you get sick, or shot, or have to find some place to stay or get money. Or do anything human! How are you going to cope?”

Dean flinched at his own words. Where the hell had that come from? He’d worried about it – no point in lying to himself. He’d watched the start of Cas’s slow slide into humanity and he knew Cas had probably watched people from afar for a long time. 

But he’d watched his dad clean and assemble a gun about a hundred times. The first time he tried – waiting until John was away somewhere - he jammed the works and got put over his dad’s knee when John saw what he’d done. Partly for touching the weapon without permission and partly for all that watching, then trying and not getting it right.

Life was already hell for Cas. But it was going to get worse, and Dean was fearful of Cas getting punished for not getting it right, just like he had been, but by the fucked up cruelty of the world rather than anybody punishing him on purpose.

_Why didn’t I say that to him_ , Dean snapped at himself. _Why didn’t I just tell him we’ll take care of him_?

“Cas,” he started.

Slowly, Cas looked up. Dean had seen that look before – a decision made, not a pleasant one, and the resoluteness in Castiel that said he was going to follow it through. The last time Dean had seen Cas like that was when the Host was coming to kill him and he was going to take them all on to give Dean time to escape.

“Cas?” Suddenly, Dean was afraid. He didn’t know why, but he felt like something was there in the bunker with them. Cold, and dark, and flitting round the edges of the room – always just out of sight. 

He never knew where Cas managed to hide his angel blade so easily he could just have it appear in his hand at will. But it was there now, gleaming in the light.

“Cas? Sam!”

::::

Sam bolted down the steps, almost tripping in his haste. He stumbled through the door, wondering if Cas was hurt worse than they’d thought or if something had somehow got past the wards and the sigils and was down in the bunker with them.

It was not what he’d expected, but in hindsight it probably should have been.

Dean was on his knees in front of Castiel, both hands locked around the angel’s wrist. He was using his whole body weight to hang onto Castiel’s arm, and Sam thought, absurdly, _Dean, he’s right there, you don’t need to pray to get his attention when he’s right there_.

Then he saw the angel blade, moving not towards Dean, but up and away. 

Despite Dean’s best efforts. 

Castiel was trying to kill himself.

Sam took a running leap at him, all the time berating himself for not considering this. They’d gone into that house with the right weapons, the right spells, the right training, and those women had burned straight through all of it – picking the weak points in their armour and striking without any mercy at all.

Castiel would have proved more of a challenge – had done, since he’d made it back here before trying to end himself – but clearly he wasn’t immune.

They ended up going down in a tangle, and Sam knew it was a stupid risk he’d taken – there was a blade somewhere in among the three of them. But his sole thought had been to keep Cas from stabbing that blade right through his own heart.

When he and Dean together, screaming at Cas to stop, still couldn’t hold him down, Sam knew they were pretty well screwed.

*-*

_Sam_

Dean was gone. Sam watched in horror as Michael, and he knew it was him, smiled coldly at him, and then vanished.

Sam was on his knees. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t make a sound. He could barely breathe and all he could think of was that he was never going to see his brother again.

A cold hand came to rest on the back of his neck, and Sam slumped sideways against a solid form.

“Cas?” he started.

But Castiel’s hands were never cold.

“Hardly,” a voice said, and Sam found enough strength to get to his feet and run.

“No point, Sam,” Lucifer called after him. “That’s my vessel. Where do you possibly think you can go?”

He made it out of the door and down the steps to the gravel driveway where they’d left the car. It was gone.

Sam ran on. He tumbled down the hill in his haste, rolling over and over, managing to stop himself before he ended up in the lake. By the time he got up, Lucifer was standing over him again.

“Think of it like a family reunion. You’ll be back with your brother and I’ll be back with mine. Briefly. Just say yes, Sam. Come on, you’ve upheld the Winchester ‘stubborn as fuck’ motto. And I’m starting to get bored with it, frankly. Say. Yes.”

Sam bolted to the end of the jetty. There was nowhere else to go. He stared down at the water. If he did this, would it stop things? Would they just bring him back? Or would his empty body just make it easy for Lucifer to step right into and then go duke it out with Michael ( _Dean_ ) in the fight to end all fights?

He couldn’t take his eyes off the water.

“Oh, don’t do that, Sam. If you kill yourself, I’ll never get my vessel.”

Sam put his hands to his ears. He just needed a minute to think, to just hear himself instead of _him_.

The next voice he heard was himself, but Sam knew at the same time that it wasn’t. He could just make out a higher voice whispering beneath his own, saying the same words. A woman’s.

“Do it,” she said. “Go on, jump in. You want to. You _have_ to.”

“No,” Sam said. He might have shouted it, he wasn’t sure. But he did the second time. “No!”

And then, because he knew he needed help, that Dean needed help, and there was only one person who could, he threw back his head and yelled.

“Cas! Castiel!”

::::

_Dean_

Dean balled up his socks and launched them at Sam’s head. “Enough research, come on, Sam.”

His brother muttered something, and waved him off with a hand. 

“Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam-“

“What!” Sam spun around, equal measures of amusement and annoyance on his face. “Don’t you want to know if we might actually be dealing with a troll here?”

Dean slumped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Long as nobody decides to go under that bridge – you know in the freezing water, or on the jaggy slippery rocks in the dark – it’ll keep until tomorrow.”

Sam turned back to his laptop and Dean threw the pillow this time.

He did eventually manage to drag Sam away from his love affair with Google and after a quick match of rock, paper, scissors, settled down to wait for his brother to bring back food from the nearby diner.

If it was a troll they were going after tomorrow, he wondered briefly if Cas might be around to help. No telling what was apocalypse related these days, and maybe Cas wasn’t there to perch on his shoulder, but Dean was never one to waste a resource even if it was weird, scary and had big feathery wings.

The only problem with calling on Castiel was that sometimes – most of the time, lately – Uriel came too. Like he didn’t want Castiel to be alone with them. Kind of like he didn’t trust them around his brother.

Dean could relate. He was coming to trust Cas, but Uriel never seemed to happy to see them and Sam in particular.

Maybe that was something he could speak to Cas about.

It took Sam a damned long time to get the food – apparently the hygiene at the nearest diner was non-existent but eventually he was back, and they were eating, when Dean felt it.

“Angel air,” he told Sam, and his brother lost a few shades of colour.

“Did you call him?”

Dean shook his head - at least he didn’t think he had. Was considering calling for Castiel the same as actually doing so? “Maybe something’s up.”

A second later, Castiel was standing in the motel room. Uriel was there too, and they both looked pissed.

“Cas?” Dean said. He stood up, and moved towards the shorter of the two angels – something was going on. 

“Castiel,” Uriel corrected and stepped forward to give Dean a shove. “Show some respect.”

Dean got angry, fast, but he reined it in. “What’s going on?” He looked around Uriel, straight at Castiel.

“You were warned,” Cas said. He gave Dean a hard look. “We told you what you needed to do.”

“Do?” Dean glanced back at Sam, saw the same confusion there. It was like there was a whole conversation he’d missed out on somewhere.

Then Uriel grabbed Sam by the arm and hauled him out of his chair. “I can smell her on him. In him.”

“What the fuck,” Dean snapped. He started forward to intervene – instinct, what was he going to do, pull Uriel off – but Castiel took hold of him. 

“This has to be done,” he said.

Dean struggled. He pulled away so hard the pain was immediate and intense, and yet Castiel never loosened his grip. 

“Dean!” Sam yelled, and then he and Uriel were gone.

Then Cas let him go.

Dean sank to his knees. He couldn’t breathe for a moment and then Castiel’s hand was on his head.

“This is for the best, Dean. You weren’t safe around him. This will be for his benefit as well.”

“Bring him back,” he managed.

He looked up to see Castiel shake his head. “You aren’t going to see him again. Accept it.”

Just like that. That same low, rough voice, so final. Like because he’d said it, with the weight and authority of Heaven behind him, it was so.

Dean didn’t remember picking up his knife or his gun. But something told him Sam was dead. They’d killed him. He just knew it.

He was not going on without his brother, not again. But before he checked out, he was going to make sure Castiel did first.

::::

Somewhere in among the struggling and the protests, neither Sam nor Dean noticed there was a new presence in the bunker.

Not until someone barked at them, “Get out of the way!” and then Sam found himself standing ten feet back with no idea how he’d gotten there.

Gabriel was on his knees next to Castiel, pushing Dean aside and grabbing at the blade Castiel held. The two angels struggled for a moment, but Gabriel was an archangel and not leaking Grace like a sieve and he managed to disarm Cas.

But Cas had always been scrappy and Sam knew the power of the compulsion working on him. He fought Gabriel back, trying to grab the blade again, and when he couldn’t, he settled for grabbing hold of Gabriel’s hand and bringing it to his throat.

“Go on,” he urged. “You didn’t get to finish me last time. Did you enjoy it? Watching what they did? The least you can do is kill me yourself instead of having others do your work for you.”

For a moment, Gabriel seemed stunned into silence. Then he tossed the blade aside, and pulled Castiel up against him, holding him so tight that Sam was worried he might crush the life out of him.

“Get the fuck out of my brother,” Gabriel said, and just like that, Castiel went very quiet and very still.

Dean was drawing the filthiest of looks at Gabriel and reached past him to feel at Castiel’s neck.

Gabriel snorted. “Yeah, he’s alive, moron, no thanks to you and your stupid brother. You didn’t think this might happen?”

Sam could see Dean was all for just pulling Cas out of Gabriel’s hold, but he knew that could go one of two ways – bad or worse.

“Uh...maybe he’d be more comfortable if we put him on the bed?” he suggested.

Gabriel glanced over his shoulder at him, shrugged, and lifted Castiel like he was a child. Cas seemed out of it, and Sam could sympathise. Back on the jetty, even after Cas had saved him, the sense of disassociation with anything around him had been near beyond tolerance.

Like reality needed time to reassert itself.

Gabriel set Cas down, then picked up his brother’s blade. “Gonna hold on to this until he comes to and I know he’s not going to do anything stupid. Like ‘hanging around you two’ stupid.”

Dean sat down on the bed, and Sam noticed he was pretty much between the two angels at that point, and was eyeing up the blade like he had half a chance of getting it away from Gabriel.

“How did you even get in here?” Dean demanded.

Gabriel didn’t take his eyes off his brother. “Just as well I did, though, isn’t it?”

**  
_Castiel_

Castiel realised it suddenly, like a truth immediately revealed to him.

Dean was not a prophet, but all the same his words had burned away the lies and the illusion that Castiel realised he had created himself.

He was never going to find God. He was never going to find Gabriel. He would slip further and further from Grace, and eventually be as human as the man he had pulled from Hell.

And in Dean’s dismissive tone, he could see what lay ahead for him then. Dean had little tolerance for people who let him down, who were of no use. Unless you were Sam. Sam, it seemed, could tear the world asunder and Dean would forgive him.

Castiel knew that he would fall, for Dean, and for that Dean would cast him aside. Of no use.

_A drained battery_ , he’d heard Dean whisper to Sam once, when they were unaware he was near, and were discussing what lay ahead for him. As if even then they were considering what to do with him. To him.

He would receive no mercy there. The demons would come for him, once he was helpless, as they had for Anna.

He doubted that Dean and Sam would fight for him as they had for her. Most likely, it seemed, they would hand him over – perhaps trade him, for time, for weapons.

Or perhaps they would simply be glad to be rid of him.

If it came to that, and it was as dark and final a sin as any that Castiel could imagine, he would rather die here at his own hands than be turned over. Even a fallen angel had use – ironically not to the Winchesters, but to any demons that caught him. He could be scraped out, eons of knowledge and awareness taken and twisted to their aims.

He would not let himself be used like that.

Wondering how he could have been so misled – by himself it seemed, because Dean he realised had never pretended to be anything other than what he was – Castiel summoned his blade, and prayed once last brief time for absolution.

::::

Castiel shuddered as the remnants of the spell leeched out of him, and started to sit up.

Sam and Dean were there, suddenly, helping him upright and then moving to sit on either side of him.

He realised why when he saw Gabriel standing over them.

“How did you get in here?”

Gabriel folded his arms. “Is there an echo in here? Pretty sure it doesn’t matter how, just that I did. That would have got you barred from the clubhouse permanently, little bro, and all you’re worried about is how I got past the guards you put up to protect these two knuckleheads. Boy, have they got you whipped.”

Castiel glared at up him and held out his hand.

“Nuh-uh,” Gabriel said and reached out to touch him.

Dean stood up, and Castiel grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down, provoking a chuckle from his brother.

He didn’t move as Gabriel’s hand came to rest on his head, and for a moment he could feel Gabriel’s Grace mingle with his own – powerful, comforting, _sure_.

Then his brother stepped back. “Ok, I guess. Try not to cut yourself or anything.” He handed back the blade, and Castiel sheathed it again. 

“Gabriel,” he began, but his brother was gone.

Castiel stood up, a little unsteadily, and felt a spurt of annoyance when Dean did as well. He wasn’t surprised to find Dean’s hand locked around his upper arm.

“No way, you are not flying off after him.”

Castiel went anyway.

::::

He found Gabriel standing just outside the fence that bordered Bobby’s property, as if his brother had been expecting the pursuit.

“How did you get in there?” he demanded. “What did I miss?”

Gabriel didn’t look at him. “Gotta be more careful with the praying, Castiel. A lot of them are listening out for you. Raphael and the others – they know you’re looking for our Father. Every time you call to him, they can hear it, and they’re going to track you down because of it one of these days. Anyway, you weren’t just calling to him.”

He wasn’t ready for Gabriel turning to him, for the sudden worry on his brother’s face. “You really thought I was trying to kill you?”

Castiel met his stare. “It felt like it.”

“Oh, please. Such a drama queen. So you took a few hits. Is this about the duct tape?”

“No, Gabriel. It is not about the duct tape. It’s about you letting us think you were dead, or taken. I searched for you. We all did. And then I find you clothing yourself in this...persona...while everything fell apart. You only chose to reveal yourself to toy with them.”

“Oh, you’re jealous! The only angel allowed round them is you, right?”

“ _Gabriel_.”

“Fine, fine. I’m sorry I messed with them. I’m sorry I roughed you up. Look, it was just...I knew there was an angel hanging around them; I just didn’t know it was you, so I was going on instinct.”

“Then you have very poor instincts,” he said, and perhaps he was being truculent but he wasn’t quite as forgiving of his brother as Dean was of Sam.

Gabriel nudged him with his elbow. “One to talk. What the hell are you doing? I get the whole leaving Heaven thing, so I can’t call you out on that, though you could have planned it a little better.”

“There was no plan. I didn’t expect to survive for long.”

Gabriel fell silent for a moment, but Castiel could feel his brother’s sudden anger.

“So then you hook up with _them_ and let them drag you into every fucked up situation they can find, so they can have some high powered back up. Or a shield.”

“You misjudge them, Gabriel.”

His brother didn’t seem convinced. “Maybe you do, Castiel.” He grabbed Castiel by the shoulders. “So, here’s the deal. I don’t care what happens to them. I don’t, and you’re not going to talk me round. But I care what happens to you. Especially now you’ve grown up and left home.”

Castiel sighed and started to step back, but Gabriel wouldn’t let him go.

“So I’m going to be keeping an eye on you. When you don’t need my help, you won’t get it. I’m not going to end up on Heaven’s radar. But when it’s too much – or when it’s time – I’m coming for you. And we’ll think of what to do then.”

Castiel didn’t need Gabriel to tell him what he meant by _time_. It might be sooner than they both expected.

But he still found it hard to trust Gabriel. The sense of betrayal was recent, and strong, and even though he wanted to believe Gabriel would be watching, he didn’t know how much faith he could put in his brother.

Gabriel seemed to see that, and stepped back with a shrug. “Don’t expect you to take me at my word, Castiel. But I meant what I said. So I’ll be seeing you around.”

Then he was gone, and though Castiel reached out to follow him, he couldn’t find any trace.


End file.
